


even my phone misses your call

by starkovs



Series: 30 minute stories [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, College, Dorks in Love, Drabble, F/M, Major case of skinny love tbh, Michelle is confused, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 06:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14785649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkovs/pseuds/starkovs
Summary: Peter gets an unexpected phone call from a person he hasn't talked to in months.





	even my phone misses your call

**Author's Note:**

> I needed a brief taste of Michelle Jones/Peter Parker since I haven't written them in forever. I saw that [writergirl8](https://archiveofourown.org/series/846255) does a 30 minute fanfic challenge, where she puts together a short story in 30 minutes when she's missing writing her ship, and I thought doing something similar would be helpful. 
> 
> I can't really explain the premise behind this story so just dive right in. If you enjoy this little glimpse, please leave a kudos or a comment. You can also [follow me on tumblr](http://mjchellewatson.tumblr.com/).
> 
> (I don't know if I'll ever like actually do something with this short little fic. I'm thinking about eventually maybe doing something with it, but I'm not sure. There is a definite bigger, much longer Michelle Jones/Peter Parker story hopefully coming out soon that I'm currently working on, but in between the break I thought that this lil fic would be a nice addition.)

It’s that time of the day where it’s either ridiculously late or ridiculously early, Peter can’t really tell. He groans as he feels someone push his side and barely manages to get out, “What’s up Harry?” 

“Your phone keeps ringing, asshole. It’s waking me up.” He glances over at his smartphone next to his pillow, noticing that it is in fact ringing. “How the fuck do you sleep through that thing?” 

“I thought it was a part of my dream.” The ringing stops and a notification pops up on his phone that says, “Missed call from Michelle Jones,” and there’s still a gold heart by her name because he’s sappy and well, he’s never been able to stop thinking about her just a little bit. Plus, it’s too much of an effort to take it out. 

“Well, are you going to call her back?” Harry asks, gesturing to the phone. Peter hesitates. “You should. I don’t know the importance, but it’s like a really fucking weird time to be calling someone unless something urgent is going on. Plus, I saw the gold heart so if it’s your girlfriend you’re a really shitty boyfriend on top of being a shitty roommate for not putting your phone on silent.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Fuck off, Harry.” 

“It’s four in the fucking morning Peter. I don’t care.” Peter doesn’t reply to it that time, figuring Harry probably wants his much desired rest. He picks up his phone and steps out into the common area of his shared suite. As he cracks open the door of his shared bedroom, he can hear Harry muttering, “Should have done the private room.”

Peter plops onto the couch, going through his missed calls and pressing the notification for Michelle. As the phone rings, he tries to remember the last time he chatted with Michelle. They didn’t talk at all over the summer or when college started for both of them, but he keeps fairly updated with her through Instagram when he can. He knows that she decided to stay in town and study at Columbia University, while he flew out to Boston to study at MIT. From his understanding, she’s trying to go to law school eventually, but that’s really all he knows about her life at the moment. 

(Though, he wonders a lot. Sometimes he gets glimpses of people that look like her or he’ll come across a Sylvia Plath book at a used bookstore that’s around the block from him and he’ll spend the next few minutes composing all sorts of hypothetical situations for her. Like, she could be in Greece sketching the Parthenon or she might be at a house party, talking to some guy she just met about how God doesn’t exist.) 

She picks up the phone though in seconds and asks, “Peter?” 

He clears his throat. “Yeah, hey, I just got your missed call. What’s going on?” She lets out what sounds like a half-hearted laugh. 

“Uh, I know this is going to sound really crazy, but please be patient. Um, so I’m outside your dorm building right now–“

His eyes widen. 

“–I know, I know. This is like the weirdest thing I’ve ever done, but can you come pick me up please? I know it’s so late at night. I can kind of explain everything in a minute–“ He’s not really registering what she’s saying because he’s quickly changing into a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“I’m on my way outside,” he says. “I’ll be there in a minute.” 

As he slides on his shoes and practically runs down the hallway, totally ignoring the ‘no running’ posters hung up on the wall, he tries to compose some kind of plan. What is he going to say to her when he sees her? Where can they stay for tonight? Should he have packed more clothes? 

All his worries vanish when he steps into the lobby of his dorm and sees her sitting on one of the couches. The DA isn’t even paying attention, his eyes focused on a book he has propped open. 

“MJ,” Peter breathes, moving forward with his arms open. She seems a little bit surprised at the affection, and he is a little bit too, but it’s four in the morning and he’s not thinking as clearly as he would like to be. When he hugs her, he lets his hand rest on her head, pulling her close. She looked like she needed it. 

“Hey loser,” she greets.

“What happened? Are you okay?” Then, without a thought, “Want to get some pancakes?” 

She laughs at the last question, stepping out of the hug. Did her eyes always sparkle like that? Peter can’t remember. The dorm light might just be playing with his head, though. 

“It’s really stupid,” she says, shaking her head. Her cheeks look a little bit flushed, but Peter doesn’t want to try and read into anything right now. “Let’s get pancakes. I’m really hungry after the drive.” 

“You _drove_ here? From New York City?” he asks as he props open the door to the building open for her. There’s a small breeze that’s moving through the air, making the trees start to rustle. 

“Yeah,” she admits. He wants to ask why, but he can tell she’s trying to keep things short on purpose. So, he holds off for now, figuring he’ll get the answers later when she’s ready. 

They start the walk to the T; the doted nickname for the subway system in Boston. They start the walk off a bit silently, but then he asks, “How’s school?”

She shrugs. “S’okay.” 

“You’re studying English right?”

“Yup. And global studies.” He nods. “You?” 

“Physics,” he says, grinning. 

“You always aced the physics section during Decathlon,” she comments, nudging him a bit. She blushes after she makes the contact and Peter’s grin grows. “I miss seeing you guys all the time.” 

“I miss everyone too,” Peter admits. “My new roommate is kind of a dick. I would have liked Ned a lot more instead. Hell, I would have taken Flash maybe over him.” 

“That bad?” she prods. Peter snorts. 

“Honestly, worse than how bad you might be thinking. His dad owns Oscorp.” Michelle’s nose scrunches up. “Yeah, he acts exactly as privileged as you would think. He’s nosy too.”

“I can imagine,” she says drily. “How is Ned?”

Peter smiles at the thought of his best friend. “Good, he loves Stanford. He’s coming back for winter break, which isn’t for a while, but we’re already starting to make some plans.” She nods her head. “What about you? You keep up with anyone?” 

She hesitates, “Betty Brant every now and then. And Liz too, of course. That’s really it. You too kind of now.” 

Peter stops at a little kiosk, so he can buy Michelle a ticket for the subway ride. 

Searching for her wallet, she starts to protest, “Peter, you don’t have to–“ 

“I don’t mind,” Peter insists, already swiping his credit card into the system. She gives him a grateful smile. 

They step onto the subway platform. Peter shoves his hand into the pockets of his jean and glances over at Michelle, who remains deep in thought. 

“Are you okay?” he asks again. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after graduation.” He blinks. “I haven’t been a good friend to you, and for you to just accept this now out of the blue. I just–  _Thank you_.” 

“Hey, it’s no problem,” he repeats. The subway arrives. “Really, I’m glad you’re here.” The doors open for the train and they both step inside. They plop into two seats along the side of the subway car and Peter figures he can ask another question, “Uh, so why did you come?” She shrugs. 

“I really don’t know. I was just sitting in my dorm, watching Charade with Audrey Hepburn and just out of the blue, I felt like I needed to go. I was tired of being there and so, I packed up my bags and some thing told me to go to Boston. Before I knew it, I was just outside of your dorm room.” 

In his head, it didn’t make sense. Back in high school, he remembered Michelle rarely acted on impulse. When she was captain of the academic decathlon team at the high school, she was so calculated with every decision she made as a leader. For her to come all the way out to Boston, a three and half hour drive, without really any purpose was such a different move for her.

Something really important in her heart called her to Boston. Maybe he was being a little bit too hopeful, but a small part of him starts to believe that maybe Michelle might be thinking of him as often as he thinks about her.

As the subway rushes through the underground, Peter can see glimpses of concrete whirl past him. He glances down at her again, seeing an almost nervous look in her eye. He plays with his fingers, contemplating her words a little bit more, before he decides to put his arm over her shoulder. 

He’s delighted when instead of swatting away, she relaxes into his touch and starts to lean against his side. He has a glimpse back to a similar memory in high school on a bus ride back from a tournament for decathlon, when she looked like she was about to rip apart at the seams from the stress and practically fell against him. Now, there’s no fatigue really to blame for it; she’s alert. This was a determined choice. 

“I’m glad you came,” he admits. She smiles at the statement.

There’s other questions he has left to ask, but for now, he studies Michelle’s curl pattern and tries to soak in the way she feels against his skin. They would have all the time in the world for questions to be asked and answered. For now, he’ll settle for having pancakes with her and making her laugh in his favorite diner as the sun rises above them.


End file.
